


Tumblr Prompts

by babyscouse



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: But I'm calling them drabbles, Feels, Fighting, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, These are clearly not drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyscouse/pseuds/babyscouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random "drabbles" based on prompts I've been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> Jesus & Daryl fighting walkers side by side and awkwardly complimenting each other afterwards.

Daryl would never admit it to anyone else, but Jesus was pretty amazing.

They’d gone out on a regular supply run, just the two of ‘em, and of course they had to run into some shit. They’d just finished quietly picking their way through a couple of untouched stores, stuffing anything of worth into their bags, when the groaning and shuffling started.

“C'mon, let’s get the hell outta here.” Daryl grunted roughly in Jesus’ direction, throwing his bag over his shoulder and grabbing up his crossbow.

Jesus just nodded in response, shouldering his own bag and following closely behind, calm but alert.

Daryl had to admire that about the guy. There was no point losing your shit at the mention of trouble. It’d just get you killed.

They quickly made their way through to the front of the store, pausing to crack the door open and check if the route back to their car was clear.

“Shit.” Daryl cursed through gritted teeth.

The whole street was teaming with those decomposing bastards. There was at least five of ‘em surrounding the car and about ten more stumbling around nearby. They had no way of distracting them either, at least not without attracting more and potentially trapping themselves inside the building.

“Judging by the cute little scowl on your face, I’d say we’re gonna have to fight our way out. Am I right?“ Jesus sighed, coming to stand beside him, inspecting his knives.

Daryl scoffed, but nodded. "You worried your hair’s gonna get messed up, Rapunzel?”

“Just make sure you’ve got enough arrows, Robin Hood.” Jesus smirked.

Daryl rolled his eyes and tamped down on his own grin. He didn’t need to check his arrows, he always made sure he had enough. Ever since he’d gotten his crossbow back he’d been even more careful with it. He did swing the bag of supplies more securely onto his back though and load an arrow up, ready to fly into the nearest soft skull. He expected Jesus to do the same with his own bag, but as he turned to give him the signal he found him stuffing his leather coat into it, pushing it towards Daryl with his foot as he rolled his sleeves up.

You’re fuckin’ with me right?“ Daryl asked, eyes narrowing to a glare.

Jesus lifted his head, eyebrows raised in amusement as he caught sight of Daryl’s incredulous look.

"I can’t very well fight with that on my back, Daryl.” he replied as if it should be obvious, nodding his head towards the bag.

“An’ I can?”

“Put those big strong shoulders to good use.” Jesus winked, turning towards the door.

Daryl grumbled angrily. Now wasn’t the time to get into it with the other man. “Asshole…” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the grin Jesus sent his way.

He swiftly pulled the second bag onto his back, getting used to the weight and caught Jesus’ eye, holding three fingers up and silently counting down before pushing outside, crossbow raised.

-

The first arrow flew the short distance into the eye of the nearest walker, flooring it immediately. Daryl ran by, pulling it up and out before thrusting it under the chin of the next body he came across. He hadn’t heard Jesus following behind him, but he could hear bodies dropping. The extra weight on his back slowed him down a bit, but he still managed to manoeuvre out of the way when grasping hands tried to pull at him. The next walker went sailing into the wall as he struck it with his crossbow, before sticking his knife through its temple. 

As the next one came at him, he kicked it’s leg out, thoroughly snapping the bone in half and laying it out, giving him enough time to raise his own leg up and bring the heel of his boot down on its face. 

He deftly pulled another arrow out, intent on moving on to the next ugly mug, only to see that none of them were anywhere near him. He quickly looked to his left, where the rest of them were riled up in a group, only to stop in his tracks.

It took him a minute to realise what was going on, but when he did he almost couldn’t believe it.

Jesus was in the middle of the remaining walkers, moving like a shadow, light glinting off his knives and Daryl could only stare, eyes wide, as he tore through them with ease. It was like his body was in constant motion, graceful and deadly as corpses fell at his feet.

When the last body dropped, Daryl’s jaw almost followed it.

Jesus was surveying the pile around him, wiping his blades off as he did and it gave Daryl enough time to get his expression in check. Jesus was amazing, okay, he could damn well admit it. He didn’t need to go and tell the other man that though. His beard was big enough, he didn’t need an ego to match.

“You okay?” Jesus asked as he made his way over to where Daryl still stood, rooted to the spot.

“Huh?…Oh yeah m'fine,” Daryl managed to reply. “You alright?” 

Jesus chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Daryl parroted back awkwardly. 

“So…” Jesus began. “You’re pretty good with that thing.” he motioned towards Daryl’s crossbow with a nod of his head. 

“…Thanks man,” Daryl muttered, scuffing his feet along the ground. “That whole ninja thing you had goin’ on was pretty…decent too.” 

Daryl cringed at how fuckin’ stupid that sounded. 

“…Thanks.”

Chancing a look up at Jesus, the other man was back to grinning, but he was rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, like he was embarrassed. 

After another few seconds of shared silence and general awkwardness, Daryl sighed and hoisted his crossbow up onto his shoulder, taking a step towards their car.

“Hey, so…maybe you could give me a lesson on how to shoot that thing some time?” Jesus blurted out, voice suddenly loud in the dead silence of the street. He was looking at Daryl’s crossbow, some of his usual confidence back in his voice.

Daryl paused and glanced between Jesus and his weapon of choice. 

“You think you could handle it?” he teased. 

Jesus raised his eyes, narrowing them playfully.

“I know I could.” 

“Oh yeah?” Daryl pressed, stepping closer and swinging the 'bow down into his hands.

“Yeah.” Jesus breathed, taking the next step, putting him toe to toe with Daryl.

Their eyes locked and both of them refused to be the one to back down first. 

Sometimes Daryl couldn’t believe this was his life now. Standing in the middle of a street, surrounded by dead bodies, having a staring contest with a guy who called himself Jesus.

Out of his peripheral he could see that Jesus’ hands were moving towards his. He allowed it for a second. Let him believe Daryl would make it that easy.

At the very last second he stepped away, taking his 'bow with him. He watched as a look of disbelief and amusement washed over the smaller mans face, then turned on his heel and walked to the car, smirking to himself.

Jesus’ smile widened at the obvious double meaning and unspoken challenge in their exchange. He watched Daryl walk away and chuckled internally.

“I’ll get my hands on your 'bow one of these days, Daryl Dixon.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> Instead of Maggie and Carol getting kidnapped last episode, it was Daryl and Jesus. And Jesus is protective!

He and Daryl had gone to find Carol and Maggie once the worst of the fighting was over at the Saviour’s base. That guy on the bike, who Daryl had impressively taken down, couldn’t have been the only straggler and the woods that surrounded them could be hiding any number of people. The two women were more than capable, but they all agreed that they didn’t want to take any chances.

Rick had assured them that the other man wasn’t going anywhere as he trained his gun on him, steady and calm. Rosita had already winged him as he’d raced out on Daryl’s bike, but again, why take chances.

Readying their guns, he and Daryl made their way back through the base and out into the parking lot. It was light out, but the clouds were looming close, heavy and foreboding. If Jesus was a superstitious kind of guy, he’d have thought it was a bad omen. As it was, he paid them no mind and carried on his way, to the left and slightly behind the hunter. He made sure to keep his tread light and as silent as possible, but Daryl moved as if he wasn’t even touching the twigs and leaves beneath them. Jesus watched him move, focused and vigilant, a predator with a singular goal in mind. He hadn’t known him long, but Jesus could appreciate that he wasn’t one to fill a silence. He was more than happy to let it blanket them. It was peaceful almost.

He didn’t know what it was about the other man, but there’d been a moment when they first met (and he’d had a gun shoved in his face) that their eyes caught and he’d felt something. Something he hadn’t felt since the world fell apart. He didn’t know how to make sense of it at the time, seeing as how he didn’t know him or Rick and he was technically trying to steal from them, but as soon as they caught up with him, as soon as he looked into Daryl’s eyes again, he’d felt it. 

He was intrigued by him.

He wanted to get to know him.

-

They were about half way back to the road when they heard it; a rustling in the trees to their left. They both swung around, guns raised and ready, but nothing emerged and they relaxed slightly, but didn’t lower their weapons. Jesus moved forward a step and Daryl stayed where he was, covering his back. Still nothing. Another step and Jesus only had a second to react when from behind he heard Daryl curse and the sound of a gun going off.

His reflexes kicked in immediately and he turned towards the noise.

The stranger in front of them fell to the ground with a shout, clutching his bloodied arm and writhing. Daryl moved to his side straight away, lifting his gun to finish the job when without warning Jesus felt cold metal roughly pushed into the back of his head. 

“Stop! Or he’s dead.” a female voice called over to Daryl.

Daryl froze and looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide as he assessed the situation.

In the same moment another women appeared behind Daryl, gun aimed at his head as she quickly checked on the man at their feet.

“Guns, knives, on the ground. Now.” the first woman ordered.

Daryl slowly raised his free hand and ducked down to the ground to drop his weapons. He retained eye contact and briefly met Jesus’s gaze, when another woman came out of the woods behind Daryl, on his right and spoke. 

“Nice vest.”

She was older, but no less deadly looking. 

“For a murderous prick.” the second woman seethed.

“Well, we’ll take it off him before we shoot him.” the first woman replied nonchalantly.

Jesus felt the butt of the gun dig into his head a little harder and he took it as a prompt to drop his own weapons. He did, slowly, catching Daryl’s eye again with an apologetic look.

If it was just him, he’d take the four of them out right now. It’d be worth the risk. But with two guns on Daryl, he couldn’t take that chance. 

-

After the whole song and dance between Rick and the redhead Paula (who appeared to be the leader of the small group holding them) they’d had their jackets thrown over their heads, their mouths gagged and their hands bound with an excess of duct tape as they were lead at gun point to a car a short distance away. When they were thrown into the back seat, Jesus could feel Daryl’s shoulder pressing up tight against his. He leant into him as much as he could, hoping to offer some form of comfort. He had to admit that he was shocked when he felt Daryl press back.

He still hadn’t been receiving friendly vibes from the other man, though the outright hostility had stopped pretty quickly after they’d reached Hilltop. 

He moved his arm as much as he could in the small space, so that he could stroke it against Daryl’s. The movement was only slight, but he heard Daryl’s quiet intake of breath and felt him press a little closer. 

It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, just a simple touch, a soft touch after being so roughly handled, but it was all he could do in that moment.

Paula spent the short car ride talking into her walkie talkie. Whatever code words she was using obviously meant something to the man on the other end as they ended their conversation quickly.

Before long they were stopping and both he and Daryl were being snatched from the car and pushed into an abandoned building, while one of the women bitched about it being a poor excuse for a safe house. He could see his feet and some writing on the ground advertising a ‘kill floor’, but not much else. He could also hear the guttural sounds of walkers as they moved further inside.

His jacket was eventually pulled away once they stopped and Paula and the brunette, who he recognised as the second woman out of the woods, were immediately in his face ordering him down on the ground opposite Daryl. The women set to work, binding their legs with even more duct tape and clearing the room of the few walkers they’d killed while the other two took care of the few still alive in other parts of the building.

Jesus’ eyes swept the room as Paula tied Daryl up. He was still and quiet, but there was the underlying fear still in his eyes. The fear of the unknown. 

“You’re wondering if there’s a way out of this,” she said evenly. “There isn’t. Not unless I say so.”

As she was finishing up with his own legs, there was a shout from another room. “Paula! We need back up!” followed by the sounds of gun shots.

“I wanna kill you both right now. It’s taking all I have not to, so go ahead, I dare you…try something, just see what happens.” she spat out as she ran from the room to help the others.

The door slammed, echoing in the large room and Jesus caught Daryl’s eye. He couldn’t speak through his gag, but he widened his eyes and jerked his chin in the other mans direction in a silent question.

Daryl nodded faintly, a silent 'I’m okay’ and began pulling at his ties. His eyes scanned the room as he panted and strained and Jesus took another sweep of the room though he knew there was no way out. Daryl also gave up when he realised there was no way to break his bonds. He sighed deeply and let his head thud back against the tile wall in frustration.

Jesus didn’t know what he and his group had done in the past when they’d mentioned dealing with people like Negan and the saviours, but by the look of resignation on the hunters face, he could only assume that this wasn’t the first time he’d been taken and held somewhere. Jesus wished he didn’t have to see that look. 

The gun shots stopped abruptly and footsteps came down the hallway again, back to the room they were in. 

The small group came barrelling back in, the man still complaining about his arm, glaring in Daryl’s direction every time a twinge made his face scrunch up in pain. Jesus wanted to punch him so badly his fingers itched. All their chatter did give him two more names though. Donnie and Chelle. The older woman paced the room as Paula tended to Donnie’s arm, tightening the makeshift tourniquet and the brunette, Chelle, hung back by the door looking like she’d rather shoot them both and be done with it. 

The women all took turns leaving the room, the older one coming back smelling of smoke and the redhead going to look for whoever they’d called. 

All the while Donnie sat by the door, moaning and whining about his arm and how he wasn’t going to lose it.

“The scout crew are thirty minutes out, maybe less.” Paula told him.

Jesus was about five seconds away from doing something really stupid. The only thing preventing him from kicking that annoying bastard to death was the thought that Daryl might somehow get hurt. 

He grunted in the redhead’s direction, mumbling around his gag. She rolled her eyes but got up to remove it, looking at him expectantly.

“He doesn’t have thirty minutes. His nerves are dying. I’m not a doctor, but I know that if he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he’s going to lose his arm, or his life.” Jesus informed her, if only to break up the droning of the other mans voice. He also got some satisfaction out of the way his eyes widened in fear.

“Your man Primo, you think he can help you?” He asked after a second. “It’s time to end this, talk to Rick. ”

Daryl watched the exchange silently.

Paula just glared at him as she stood back up.

“Thirty minutes.” she repeated as she walked to the other side of the room.

Jesus looked over at Daryl. He’d gone back to looking down at his hands.

He was so intent on watching him that he failed to see the injured man giving Daryl a murderous look as he started to move.

“You know my problem,” Donnie gasped as he stumbled to his feet, eyes never leaving Daryl. “He did this to me. He did it and he’s just sitting there right as rain, fully intact.”

“Hey…” Paula interrupted.

“No. If you’re not gonna make the trade, then we just do 'em both now.”

Jesus’ eyes snapped up to him. In his peripheral he could see the older woman looking at Donnie in bewilderment.

“No, we wait for the others, we have to be smart. We need insurance.” the redhead told him, like she was talking to a child.

“Then shoot him in the arm too.” Donnie reasoned. 

He still hadn’t taken his eyes off Daryl and Jesus was seeing red.

“Noooo…” Paula laughed in disbelief.

Donnie finally looked away, meeting the woman’s eyes instead.

“You really gonna stick up for some gutless prick over me?”

The air was tense for a second before he doubled over in agony again, cursing as he went.

“Shut. up.” 

“Don’t push me Paula!” he growled.

“Shut up!” she repeated louder over his grunts.

The other two women exchanged concerned looks, but didn’t move.

Between one breath and the next Donnie reared up and back handed Paula with his good hand. She jerked back and Jesus only then realised that she was the only thing standing between him and Daryl.

As he made to advance on his target, Jesus swept his legs out hard, taking Donnie down to his level.

“Don’t you touch him!” he yelled as he twisted his body around to better reach the other man.

Before he could get to his knees, Donnie regained his senses and grabbed him by the roots of his hair, bringing him to his feet and snapping his head back.

“Mmm! Mmm!” he could heard Daryl yelling around his gag on the floor, trying to get the attention back on him.

“You stupid son of a bitch!” Donnie yelled in his face, releasing his hair long enough to hit him. It gave Jesus all the time he needed to rear back and throw his full weight into the head-butt he delivered to his nose. It knocked him back, but as he went Daryl took the opportunity to grab onto his legs.

With his hands and feet tied, he didn’t have much of a chance to defend himself as soon as Donnie regained his balance. His focus back on his intended target, he proceeded to lay into him, delivering three good kicks to his back before Jesus could do anything. Just as he’d decided on simply throwing himself at the other man, Paula re-joined the fight and knocked Donnie out with one clean strike to the temple with the butt of her gun. 

He hit the ground with a thud and Paula looked between Daryl and Jesus with a raised eyebrow.

“You really are some kind of stupid.” She said to Jesus, cupping her hand to her bruised cheek.

Jesus ignored the comment and made to move towards Daryl, who was curled on his side facing the wall. Before he could take a step, Paula stopped him and looked to Chelle.

“Take him out and see if he knows anything. Shoulda done that before.”

Chelle came to his side, cutting the tape from his ankles and manhandled him out of the room. As they left he tried to get another look at Daryl, but he couldn’t see him properly. 

He was breathing at least.

It wasn’t much of a comfort.

-

The brunette took him down a few hallways and into a small room, pushing him down into a seat and taking the one opposite him.

She sat in silence for a minute, just eyeing him up, probably trying to find a weakness to exploit in order to get information.

“Make this easy for yourself,” she finally said, gun resting lazily against her thigh. “You’re obviously set up somewhere good. Just tell us where.”

Jesus looked back at her blankly. 

He wasn’t telling these people anything.

“Don’t waste my time.” she continued.

Jesus didn’t budge.

Chelle leaned forward in her seat, an emotion other than anger behind her eyes.

“You and your boyfriend in there…you’re not the good guys. You should know that.” 

Jesus still didn’t falter. He knew who was good and bad in this situation and whatever mind games this woman thought she could use on him, especially using Daryl and Jesus’ obvious concern for him as a weapon, he could promise that they really wouldn’t work.

He had one priority. Getting himself and Daryl out of this place and back to the group.

“If I was in your shoes and the man I cared about was tied up in another room after receivin’ a beating, I’d be running my damn mouth, just so I could keep him safe.”

He could feel himself tense as the words cut a little too close to home, but he wouldn’t let her see it affect him.

After listening to her talk for a while longer, in which she played good cop and bad cop, Jesus decided he’d give her one thing. One definitive answer.

“I’m not planning to die today.”

She paused for a second, before shaking her head slightly.

“Yeah. Me neither,” she smiled. “Thing is…one of us is wrong.”

She sighed one last time, taking the safety off her gun as if it’d intimidate him.

“Just tell me where.”

-

The screech of a door down the hall pierced the silence around them.

Jesus hadn’t said a word beyond his earlier statement and the anger radiating from Chelle was palpable. 

At the sound, she was up out of her seat in a second opening the door and talking to the other women in hushed whispers.

After a minute she turned back towards him, slipping her gun into her holster.

“Don’t move.”

Jesus waited for her to leave before a smile broke out over his face.

This was the opening he’d been waiting for since they’d been taken.

-

Jesus cursed under his breath as he quickly dragged his bound hands against the metal shelf. 

“Do these people have stock in duct tape or something.” 

He didn’t know how many layers he had to cut through, but he finally felt the tape give and watched as it fell to the ground.

He hurried to the door, opening it an inch and listening for any sounds in the corridor. 

Nothing.

He might not have been able to move as silently as Daryl in the woods, but when he’d promised Tara he wouldn’t be seen back at the compound, it wasn’t just over-confidence. He could go undetected when he needed to.

He recalled the different turns they’d taken from the first room and swiftly followed them back, intent on finding Daryl. The three women had disappeared off somewhere and they wouldn’t have left Donnie alone with the hunter, so Jesus would be able to get in, grab Daryl and then they could fight their way out if they needed to.

As he rounded the last turn he smacked into somebody coming the other way and immediately threw his hands up. The other person stepped back quickly, raising their own fists.

“Jesus?” 

“Daryl?”

They said simultaneously as they caught sight of one another.

Before he could think twice about it he pulled Daryl into his arms and sunk his head down on his shoulder. He felt the other man tense at first, but he didn’t pull away. 

Jesus held him for a second longer before pulling back and holding him at arms length, looking him over.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a rush.

“I’ve taken worse,” Daryl grunted in that gravelly tone of his. “you alright?” 

“I am now.” Jesus huffed, relief washing over him. 

Daryl brought a hand to his bicep and gave a firm squeeze, the smallest smile playing on his lips before he became all business again. 

“Those assholes are pretty spread out, but I think we can get 'em all.” he seethed.

“All four of them?” Jesus asked.

“Nah…the one I shot was still out cold when they left. Him first, then the other three.” he answered decisively. 

Jesus nodded and the two of them headed back to the main room, intent on finishing this.

-

Jesus knelt down by Donnie, who was still prone on the floor. 

Daryl was keeping watch at the door.

He undid the rope from around the mans arm, handing it to Daryl and watched as the blood began to pool below him. As Jesus looked closer, he could see the unconscious man wasn’t breathing, or if he was it was extremely shallow. 

He felt for a pulse but couldn’t find one.

“He’s dead,” he told Daryl over his shoulder. “he’s already turning.”

Daryl came to stand beside him. “We’re gonna need a gun.” he said, looking down at Donnie.

“I’ve got an idea. Hand me the rope.” 

As he began threading the rope through the dead mans belt, he glanced up at Daryl who was still stood by him. The hunter was watching what he was doing with a surprised but impressed grin.

“I’m not just a pretty face, Daryl.” he joked, tightening the knot on the belt.

“Who said anythin’ bout you being pretty?” Daryl replied, hiding his eyes behind his bangs, but that small barely there smile was back.

Jesus turned back to what he was doing, chuckling under his breath.

Now wasn’t the time to flirt, but it was tempting.

“Gimme a hand getting him up.” he instructed, hoisting Donnie’s dead weight up on one shoulder as Daryl took the other.

After some awkward shuffling around, they laid their trap. They went back out into the corridor and hid around the corner.

Now all they had to do was wait.

It didn’t take long.

-

As soon as the older woman walked into the room, he and Daryl crept closer.

They heard her scream as Donnie did his part, then silence for all of two seconds.

“Where are ya’?!” they heard her yell. “I’m gonna bloody up that-”

Daryl was on her in a second. Arm around her throat and gun pulled out of its holster.

It only took a few hits to the head and she was dead.

They had their gun and now they were down to two.

-

They moved through the corridors together, Daryl with his gun raised and Jesus holding the knife. 

When they reached the end which presumably lead to the exit, they found it blocked by a group of walkers acting like guard dogs. All impaled and writhing, struggling to get at them. Jesus moved forward, grabbing the nearest one and driving the knife through its skull. As he was about to move on to the next, he felt Daryl press against his back and pull him down, narrowly avoiding a bullet.

He kept them down, shielding Jesus until the loud click of the empty gun reached them. 

Daryl stood immediately and turned, shooting without a second thought.

Jesus got to his own feet just as Paula dropped like a rock a few feet away.

“Paula?” Chelle’s voice called.

Both of them quickly glanced at each other and Daryl held his hand out for the knife. Jesus passed it over then took the gun from his other hand.

“I got her.” Daryl assured, creeping down the corridor, pressing his back to the wall as he reached the first left turn. 

Jesus followed.

“Molly?” Chelle shouted, practically on top of them now.

With a quick inhale of breath Daryl jumped around the corner, surprising the brunette and knocking the gun from her hand. She shouted out in surprise as Daryl forced her into the wall, but she wasn’t going to go down easy. As Daryl lifted the knife she brought her knee up, catching him in the stomach and momentarily winding him. It gave her enough of an advantage to flip their positions, cracking Daryl’s head into the wall and pulling the knife from his hand. Daryl grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her away and into the opposite wall, giving himself some distance, but she came back swinging. Literally. She slashed the knife through the air, narrowly avoiding Daryl until the last second when she managed to slice across his abdomen.

Jesus didn’t hesitate.

He stepped around the corner, put the gun to her head and fired.

Daryl stayed rooted to the spot, holding his shirt away from his body.

Jesus rushed to his side and grabbed at the material, lifting it to check the skin underneath.

Oh, thank god. 

“Well the bad news is, your shirt is ruined.” he laughed. He couldn’t help it.

Daryl looked down at himself and a rough laugh burst out of him too.

“How the…” he trailed off.

Jesus gripped the nape of his neck and Daryl raised his head to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re okay.” he said firmly.

Daryl paused for a second, searching Jesus’ face before moving forward, closing the small distance between them, but before he could do anything the loud crackle of Paula’s walkie sounded in the hallway they’d just come from. They both looked at one another and Jesus gave Daryl’s neck a light squeeze before letting go with a sigh.

They made their way back to the redhead’s body and Jesus bent down to pick the radio up as a voice called through it.

“Almost forgot about them other assholes.” Daryl grumbled.

“I’ve got an idea…” Jesus smirked.

“Not just a pretty face.” Daryl responded with a smirk of his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> I love protective Jesus. Can you do one where Daryl goes out on runs with just Rick, and when Daryl gets home, Jesus wants to check him out and make sure he's ok? But this time, he has a bad scratch on his back, and Jesus is worried?
> 
> [Pre-relationship]

Jesus watched as Daryl staggered through the gates yet again, bloody and bruised.

This scenario happened way too often for his liking. It seemed that every time Daryl went outside the walls, he wasn't satisfied until he was practically crawling back home. 

-

In the relatively short time he'd known the hunter, Jesus found himself constantly worrying about him. Rick and the rest of the Alexandrians didn't seem to give it much thought, which only annoyed him more. Daryl may have been strong and more than capable, but if he wasn't careful, one of these days he wasn't going to come home. The reality of that situation always made Jesus' throat feel tight.

He'd more or less been given an open invitation to stay in the community whenever he pleased and if his overnight stays somehow coincided with Daryl coming back from his two man runs with Rick, then it was nobody's business but his own. Rick had asked him along once or twice, but Daryl had shot the idea down before he could even respond. Their relationship was still quite prickly, so Jesus never pushed, though he wanted to. He wanted to be an extra set of eyes out there, another pair of hands in case they got in trouble, but he'd quickly realised that if he was going to get anywhere with Daryl, he would have to wait for him to make the first move.

The first time he'd seen the two men return home looking like they'd been dug up and dipped in blood, Jesus had immediately panicked and rushed over to Daryl's side, eyes wide and speechless. The other man had looked momentarily shocked by the concern, his eyes softening from their usual suspicious squint before hardening again as he pushed past Jesus, grumbling about Denise fixing him up. It had taken longer than he cared to admit for the shock and worry to wear off, and only then did he realise that his reaction might have been a little strange.

He thought it'd been a one off.

He thought it was just a knee jerk reaction.

It wasn't.

The next time and the time after that, and every time since, his instinct had taken over and before he knew what he was doing he was rushing to Daryl's side.

Daryl looked less and less shocked as time went by and now he just seemed resigned to having Jesus rush him with a dozen questions after each run.

He still refused any help, but he'd stopped barging past him like his concern was offensive.

-

This time was different.

Daryl usually hung around at the gate with Rick for a while, talking to the others and giving Jesus enough time to check him over, but as soon as the car had slowed to a stop he was making a beeline for the infirmary. 

Denise was gone now though and Rosita was out on her own run, so there'd be nobody there to patch him up. He didn't doubt that Daryl was stubborn enough to try and do it himself either.

With an exasperated sigh and a furrowed brow, Jesus rose from his perch on the wall and climbed down to follow him.

-

"Daryl..." Jesus breathed, voice uneven.

He'd made it just inside the door and closed it behind him before stopping dead in his tracks.

Daryl was sat up on the bed, vest thrown haphazardly on the floor and shirt pulled down to his waist. His back was to Jesus and he seemed just as stunned as he looked over his shoulder at the other man, frozen in place.

His back was a mess of sweat, dirt and blood; the latter of which seemed to be coming from Daryl himself, if the jagged wound across his shoulders was any indication.

"Is that a-" 

His throat closed up again, like it did when he thought of Daryl not making it back home. He couldn't finish the question. He was too afraid of the answer. He could feel the blood drain from his face and his ears filled with static.

"Aw hell." Daryl grumbled, scrambling to pull his shirt back up.

Jesus made to move forward, but he was having a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at a time and his attention was very intently focused on those broad shoulders.

"What are ya followin' me in here for?" Daryl continued to grumble, wincing as the rough material of his shirt rubbed against his wound.

The harsh tone slammed some sense back into him.

"Seriously? You're going to give me shit right now?" he shouted, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Daryl seemed to deflate a little, looking away and chewing on his bottom lip.

Jesus sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. 

"Did you get bit?" he managed to choke out.

The air was thick and silent for a minute, before Daryl answered him quietly.

"Dunno."

"Daryl-" Jesus began, frustrated and scared.

He started to walk towards him, finally able to get his legs working.

"I don't know, alright!" 

He froze at the outburst.

"I just...I don't know." Daryl repeated, softer and sounding so vulnerable it made Jesus' chest ache.

He took a deep breath and made his way to Daryl's side.

"Can I take a look?"

The hunter glanced up at him for a minute, nodding slightly before turning away again and easing the shirt back off his shoulders. This close, Jesus could see the tension in his arms as he moved. There were several angry looking bruises scattered over them and every movement was stiff, like the smallest gesture was painful. 

Daryl dipped his head forward so his chin touched his chest and Jesus could finally see the entire wound. 

"I'm going to need to clean you up first. I can't see much...there's....there's a lot of blood." he tried to keep his voice calm, even though he could feel his pulse racing uncontrollably. 

"Go ahead." Daryl grunted.

Jesus nodded shakily to himself before quickly pulling his leather gloves off and replacing them with the medical kind. He moved around the room as swiftly as possible, filling a bowl with water and grabbing as many clean towels as he could. He finally dragged a small table to his side, setting everything down on it before shucking his coat off and throwing it over the countertop. 

Once everything was in place he soaked the first towel, squeezed out the excess water and began to scrub away the layers of blood and filth. Daryl remained quiet and still as he worked, two towels ruined before he could even begin to see the source of the problem properly.

As he started to clean out the wound directly, Daryl began to hiss and fidget with discomfort. 

"How did this happen?" Jesus asked, pressing the towel down and watching rivulets of bloody water run the length of Daryl's back. 

He figured talking might distract the other man from the pain, at least for a little bit.

Daryl scoffed.

"It don't matter."

"Humor me." Jesus urged.

Daryl seemed like he was just going to ignore him at first.

He kept his head down and didn't make a sound, but after a tense silence, he cursed under his breath and sighed in resignation. 

"Me an' Rick got cornered by a bunch a'them dead pricks in some store. My knife got stuck in one of 'em and I went down hard 'fore I could get it back out. I got back up but another one of 'em was on my back straight away," he paused for a minute as Jesus dug a little deeper into the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I backed up into a wall and got it off me...put its head right through a piece of loose pipe...but I don't know whether it was that what got me or if I'd already had a chunk taken outta me." 

Daryl turned his head, so Jesus could see his profile. He tilted his own head and they shared a look for a moment before looking away. He wanted to offer Daryl some words of reassurance or maybe kick his ass for putting himself in this position, but from what he knew about the other man, nothing he said or did right now would make much difference. He didn't know if everything was going to be okay and Daryl was probably beating himself up worse than he ever could.

"I think I'm almost done here. It doesn't looks nearly as bad now that it's clean." Jesus murmured, clearing his throat. 

"M'kay." Daryl murmured back.

Jesus finished cleaning the wound in silence but couldn't stop the burst of relieved laughter from spilling out of him when he could properly see the large gash across Daryl's back.

He braced his hands on the other man's shoulders and rested his forehead against the back of his head, biting his bottom lip hard as his laughter was in danger of becoming a sob.

Daryl shifted beneath him, but didn't move away.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"It's not a bite, or a scratch." Jesus whispered into the small space between them.

He felt the moment the air rushed out of Daryl's lungs and how his shoulders relaxed for the first time since he'd got back.

"And you were worried." he scoffed, but Jesus could hear that same vulnerability from before.

He lifted his head and rolled his eyes as he moved around the table to stand in front of the hunter.

"Asshole." 

"Mother hen."

They both stared each other down for a second before cracking up. 

"So am I gonna need stitches or what?" Daryl mumbled after they'd calmed down. Jesus could see the walls starting to go back up and figured he may as well say his piece before he was shut out again.

"I don't think so. Just...please be more careful in future." he pleaded, looking Daryl in the eye. "If I end up in an early grave, I'm going to make sure that my headstone says, 'Blame Daryl'."

He could see the smirk pull at the corner of the other man's mouth.

As he went to move back around the bed to finish up, Daryl stopped him.

"Thanks for cleanin' me up," he chewed his lip. "and I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Jesus frowned.

"Look man, I aint stupid. I know you worry an' shit. I don't know why but I know you do. So...I guess m'sorry for always givin' you reason to."

Jesus felt the stupid smile spread on his face before he could stop it.

Daryl groaned when he caught sight of it, which caused Jesus to smile wider.

"Douchebag."

And just like that everything was back to normal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> Jesus & Daryl have a fight, then make up.

Daryl wrenched the door of the trailer open, stomping inside the small shared space and slamming the door closed with enough force to shake the structure. 

He paced as much as he could without disturbing the various piles of books hugging every wall, which in a fleeting moment of pettiness, he decided would serve as a good target for his anger.

He dropped his crossbow onto the equally cluttered table then waited for the inevitable.

Within a few seconds he was joined by the deceptively calm appearance of Jesus. In contrast to his own rage fuelled entrance, the other man silently slipped inside, gently shutting the door and coming to a halt a few steps in front him.

"The hell were you thinkin' coming out after me like that?! I aint no damsel in distress!" Daryl growled, leaning into the other man's space.

Now that they were away from the nosey hilltop residents, Jesus' calm façade fell away to be replaced by his own fury.

"Me? What the hell were you thinking? Going out alone like that, when you knew how dangerous it was!" 

Daryl backed up briefly before leaning right back in, eyes narrowed and throat burning.

"I was thinkin' we needed those supplies!"

Jesus scoffed, arms folding tightly across his chest. 

"We had a plan, Daryl. We were going to send a small group out to get them, and you knew that!"

"Aint no 'small group' was gonna go get 'em!" Daryl bit out incredulously. "It was just gonna be you, so don't feed me that horseshit man!"

A brief look of guilt passed over Jesus' face, before being replaced by anger again.

"Oh, so it's alright for you to go out alone, without even telling anyone, but god forbid I do the same? I had a plan and prior knowledge of the area, Daryl! You had a crossbow, a knife and according to Kal a really shitty attitude."

Daryl began to pace again, chewing on his lip compulsively as his heart pounded a heavy beat against his ribs.

"It aint none of that little shits business where I go." he muttered fiercly. 

Jesus slammed his hands down on to the tabletop, letting his head drop between his arms with a heavy sigh before those solemn eyes were directed right back at him. 

"If he hadn't told me, you'd be dead right now you stubborn asshole!"

"Better me than you." Daryl replied quietly, looking away. He hoped his words hadn't been heard, but it didn't take more than a second for them to register with the other man.

"What?" Jesus immediately demanded, striding the short distance right into Daryl's personal space.

Daryl tried to avoid the intense gaze he knew was already directed at him, but the younger man simply grabbed his face between both hands, holding him in place.

"Daryl..." Jesus breathed, anger swiftly replaced with distress. 

With a deep breath Daryl deflated, bringing his own hands up to cover those softly cupping his cheeks. 

"I knew it was gonna be a dangerous run, whether you had a plan or not. An' I knew you was goin' alone too, no matter what you said about a group headin' out." he paused for a minute to glare half-heartedly at the other man, "By the way you prick, don't lie 'bout shit like that again. At least not to me."

Jesus' mouth tipped up in a barely there smile, but he nodded before resting their forehead's together. "I promise."

"Anyway...I knew it was gonna be you out there again, sticking your neck out like always...an' all I could think was that one of these times you aint gonna come back." Daryl paused for a deep breath, forcing the next words out past the lump in his throat. "Facin' down all them walkers today wasn’t nearly as terrifyin' as the thought of losin' you."

Jesus whined low in his throat, swiftly pulling the other man down into a slow, sweet kiss before moving back to regain eye contact.

"I worry about the same thing all the time. When I found out you were gone, I was so scared I'd be too late and there'd be nothing I could do. How do you think I felt when I saw you trying to fight all those walkers by yourself?"  

Daryl brought his arms around Jesus' waist and held on to him tight, thinking of showing up the same as the other man had, unable to see him and trying to slash and stab his way through the dead to find him.

"M'sorry." he whispered, eyes wet.

Jesus tucked his face into his neck, breath warm against his ear as he spoke.

"You're important, Daryl Dixon. To this place, and especially to me."

"Love you." Daryl hummed into the smooth skin of his temple.

"Tell that to the three new grey hairs you gave me today." Jesus huffed in reply, feeling the welcome vibration of laughter from the solid chest against his.


End file.
